


Guts

by plutostan



Category: Video Blogging RPF, supermega
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, College, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, Roommates, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27765580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutostan/pseuds/plutostan
Summary: Ryan swears to himself for what feels like the hundredth time that he will not, under any circumstances, play white knight for his roommate.fic in which Ryan and Matt move into a student apartment together and Ryan hates Matt’s boyfriend
Relationships: Ryan Magee/Matt Watson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 39





	1. your boyfriend sucks

Ryan Magee has never enjoyed the whole roommate aspect of moving onto his college campus. Being stuck in a dorm room with some testosterone-filled asshole that doesn’t clean up after himself for an entire school year really fucked up his GPA. He never wanted to be home, and often stayed out at the odd bar or a friend’s place.

And considering how much he dreaded social gatherings of any sort once attendance exceeded a couple of people, that meant something. He just got used to being the quiet one with the thousand yard stare, only really engaging when he had to and drinking until he could stomach his own existence. The few girls in the vague, large social circle he’d found himself enveloped in during his time at the university enjoyed his presence, though. The bar was on the floor, and being a five-foot-ten man with some meat on his bones and enough sense to fend off creepers and douchebags was enough for them. Ryan doesn’t typically get along with other guys in his home town, finding most of them to be overcompensating for something. This made waiting to meet his new housemate all but terrifying.

To his relief, he was able to swing a student apartment this year. A cheap second floor two bedroom, one bath on campus. It wasn’t much, but it was worlds beyond a shitty dorm room. He felt so much more comfortable, more at home, being able to stretch out in his own bedroom. Not having to leave his sorry excuse for solitude to cross a public hallway in order to take a piss.

The five days of alone time following up to his roommate’s arrival were heavenly. Living alone was made for Ryan. No one else’s rules to follow, no forced small talk with anyone, no dealing with a stranger’s even stranger friends. Just comfort and relaxation. The days come and go too quickly, and when he wakes up on that sunday morning, he wants nothing but to go back to bed. With one arm strewn over his eyes, blocking out the bright white light leaking in through the blinds as he slowly twists them shut. It was a crisp, cloudy, almost-fall day, the stark white sky being nearly more relentless than the sunshine would be in it’s place. Eight-thirty. His housemate had texted him the day before, letting him know he was planning on arriving around ten or so. He was coming from upstate, the commute was a little over an hour. Ryan looked at his contact name.

Matt Watson.

They had friended eachother on facebook, after Ryan posted in a group for the college in a last ditch effort to find a roommate in time to sign the lease, and Matt seemed more keen on getting to know Ryan than the other way around. While not trying to be rude, the older man literally could not bring himself to chat it up like Matt could, even over text. Socialization came so easy to others, and Ryan fought hard not to resent it.

Ryan stretches, slowly conceding to the fact that no, he will not get any more sleep. With a hefty sigh, he makes himself get out of bed. The apartment was fully carpeted save for the kitchen and bathroom, so there was no cold wood pannels like in his old room. It was nice. He puts his slippers on out of habit, though, shuffling into the kitchen in nothing but his boxers and an old t-shirt from one of the church events he attended in high school. He wasn’t very religious at all, really, mostly just honoring god out of habit and parental expectation. However the tie dyed garment was still an integral part of his pajama drawer.

He makes some eggs and toast, having been elated to be living with a kitchen again. A toaster, and a stovetop were things he’d been robbed of last year, and the year before that. Ryan is a junior, which he’s thankful for. College hasn’t been the best time of his life, despite what his mom had kept telling him. He’s just ready for it to be over. His breakfast is finished and his dishes are put in the dishwasher, another commodity he’ll never take for granted again, and he takes a quick shower. The hot water calms his nerves considerably, slowly lathering up and rinsing his hair while his mind drifts away. His hair is getting longer and longer, almost reaching his shoulders. He doesn’t mind it, and a certain coworker insisted it made him look handsome.

He’s rinsing the conditioner from his hair when he hears the knock at the door. Shit. Matt’s early. Didn’t he pick up his key already?

Frantically, Ryan gets the soap out of his hair, rinsing off as thoroughly as he can before hopping out into his towel. No way is he opening the door in just that, however, and he hastily dries off as he hears the pounding continue. He’s already biting back frustration as he pulls up his gymshorts, pairing them with one of his black tank tops. His hair is wet and still dripping, so he carries the towel with him into the living room, patting it as he goes. Finally, he whips open the door so that he’s face to face with someone on the other side of it.

That someone isn’t Matt. He’s bulkier and taller than Ryan anticipated Matt to be, not to mention the face was all wrong. Matt was a dorky dude with glasses and a lopsided grin. This dude looked like he could beat Ryan’s ass without breaking a sweat. No wonder it sounded like he was about to break the door down.

“Oh shit, you were in the shower?” He laughs, sizing Ryan up in a way that makes him narrow his eyes, “Sorry. Just got a lot of shit to bring in.”

“You’re early, uh...” Ryan trails off, waiting for the strange man to say his name, to justify his presence.

“Zack.” He nods, “Didn’t let Matt sleep in today.”

Ryan’s still confused, and this Zack guy walks past him to drop off a couple of duffle bags in the living room. A tall, lanky man follows them into the apartment and sets a box down on the table. He smiles that familliar grin over at Ryan and holds a large hand out to shake.

”Hey, Ryan!” He greets him happily, and Ryan takes his hand and nods.

“Hey, you must be Matt.” he says, and feels stupid for a second before he realizes that he shouldn’t feel stupid, he’s just overthinking things and why is he overthinking things it’s just his roommate-

”Ryan, you’re a big dude. You can help me with the coffee table.” Zack coughs out an interruption, and Ryan nods, retracting his hand back into his pocket. He steps into some real shoes, shrugging a hoodie and heading out the door. He doesn’t make it all the way through, however, before hearing Matt utter something involving the word ‘baby’ and he grimaces.

Of course. The meathead is this kid’s boyfriend, and said boyfriend probably has a complex about their living arrangement. There’s always a catch. Ryan kicked at a rock once he reached the bottom of the stairs, looking up just in time to see Zack open up the door and follow him. He eyes the bed of the truck, the coffee table not seeming too terribly heavy. Ryan took one end, and Zack took the other. Matt stood at the top of the stairs, leaning over the bannister to watch the pair maneuver their way up the stairs.

There’s a few times where Ryan swears that Zack stalls on purpose to fuck with his leverage and make him lose balance. Neither of the party fall though, and Matt congratulates them before dashing down the stairs to grab a large case of beer and begin loading it into the fridge. Ryan chuckles at his enthusiasm. He and the two taller men continue to tag team the rest of the truck’s contents, slowly clearing out the bed of everything Matt had brought.

With that, Matt’s grabbing beers for each of them. Ryan’s brain can hardly keep up. First he’d been surprised with a second person he’s supposed to be friendly with, then said second person is on edge because he’s dating Ryan’s roommate, and now he’s expected to drink with both of these strangers? It’s almost getting too much as his mind races with the possibilities of it going wrong. He wants to live in his bedroom and never come out.

He realizes he must have been spacing out for a weird amount of time because Matt’s eyebrows are knitted together as he eyes him. Ryan takes the can of beer with a smile. Matt then circles the couch to be face to face with his boyfriend, holding the can up to his chest. Zack smiles down at him.

“Just one. I have to drive back pretty soon, baby.”

Ugh. Another ‘baby’. Pet names like that were far beyond Ryan’s boundaries. He tried ‘sweetheart’ on one of his girlfriends in high school. All his relationships had pretty much consisted of your typical shallow teenage romances; spanning a few months and doing more to confuse eachother than anything else. Ryan had done some stupid shit while he thought he was falling for someone, but ‘baby’ was never something he could bring himself to say. Not seriously, anyway.

He’s zoned out for most of the next hour, the two taller men getting all too comfortable with eachother on the couch. Matt had his mattress laid out already, maybe they should get a room. The older man’s eyes flicker over to his own door, then at the television.

Some less-niche programming had been chosen over the horror movie Ryan had been watching this morning. The pair were enthralled by the raunchy sitcom, the larger man’s arm propped up on the back of the couch, his smaller boyfriend tucked into his side. Matt had his knees drawn up to his chest, head falling right at the crook of Zack’s neck with his arms wrapped around his bony knees. The larger of the two has been pointing out the ‘best parts’ for the entirety of the last episode. At first, Ryan felt bad for finding it so infuriating.

The bearded man made the decision all at once, standing up from his spot on the small bean bag chair. It proved to be less comfortable as he aged, but he couldn’t resist bringing it with him when he moved in. It’s proven its worth already, giving him a place to sit other than the couch that’s currently being violated.

He’s sure at least one pair of eyes follows him as he crosses their field of vision, making his way to his door. Despite this, he still tries to shut it noiselessly. _Good job, now they think you’re weird. Fuck that, I live here too, I don’t have to explain why I’m going to my room_.

He dispells a large breath, vowing to take a smoke break as soon as Zack leaves. He said he couldn’t stay long, but he’s been sitting on that couch for over an hour now. To take his mind off of the events that had unfolded on his literal doorstep this morning, he decides to open up his laptop. He clicks around to a few emails, checking the messages from teachers and other official-looking nonsense. He’s able to read through a syllabus or two, skimming the coursework outlines and the required books for his film class. Books for a film class, how ironic. It was hard to believe that another entire year of bullshit was about to start the following wednesday. Hell, his first shift back at work is tuesday. He only has three more days of summer, technically. How depressing. He’s now zoning in and out of what’s happening on his computer screen.

He works seasonally at a local diner, it isn’t exactly a mom and pop, not exactly a major chain either. A few restaurants scattered around the southestern quarter of America is all. With the schoolyear, patronage goes up, so there’s room for Ryan and a few other lucky students whenever they were in town. Fully distracted from the movie review he’d been half-heartedly watching, mostly using as background noise, he grabs his phone and takes another look at his schedule for the week. He glares down at the five-to-eleven PM shift that waited to welcome him back with open arms. He thinks about the eight AM lecture he has to attend on Wednesday morning and scrubs at his face with his hands.

That’s when he hears movment on the other side of the door. He sets his laptop off to the side, pausing the video, eyes now fixated on the door as he hears the voices of the two men outside. It’s been a few hours now, the television seems to have gone silent. He can’t make out the first few words, the deeper voice coming through the wall much clearer than it’s higher, softer counterpart. The lower voice is raised a few octaves with it’s next words.

”You always fucking do this, man.”

The tone is harsh to say the least, not really something Ryan quite expected to hear. It’s not answered to immediately, and when Matt begins to work out his response it becomes apparent that the pair moved from their seats.

“I’m sorry, we must have- I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” he stammers, obviously closer to the wall that seperates the conversation from Ryan. He can’t even see them, and the dynamic is rubbing him entirely the wrong way. He stands up before he’s even conscious of it, but keeps his feet in place on the carpet.

“It’s like you like to fuck with me,” is the bitter comeback, the exact kind of guilt-trippy shit the older man expected from the petulant asshole. Sure, Ryan doesn’t know much context, but he struggles to imagine any that would excuse his attitude. There’s more shuffling, a thud or two, and Ryan’s suddenly turning his doorhandle and stepping out into the livingroom.

He sees the broader boy digging through the clutter they’d placed on the table while they were moving Matt in, before plucking his keys from the surface. He’s happy to verify the only things being manhandled were inanimate.

“Please, just wait a second, don’t leave mad, please-“ The smaller boy is in the way of the door, desperation clear in his voice. The broader of the two just stands before him.

“Get out of the way, Matt. Unless you have an explanation for my boss on why I’m gonna be late to work. Again.” The tone is definitely more threatening than any Ryan would ever use with a significant other. It sounds so angry, so genuine, the longer haired man can’t help but finally make himself known.

He coughs into his fist, eyeing the pair at the door, hoping to send a wordless message to the aggressor. Matt looks over Zack’s shoulder and his cheeks go red, before his gaze is focused back on his boyfriend’s face. His blue eyes are wide, they look heartbreakingly sad as he looks up at the man before him with his arms outstretched. The taller man huffs and complies, giving in and pulling the skinnier man into a brief hug. If only to look better in front of Ryan. There’s a chaste kiss, and he leaves. That’s that. The bearded man can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t interrupted.

But when Matt turns to face him once again, he stops that train of thought to deal with the task at hand.

“You doin’ okay?” he tries awkwardly, running a hand over his now-dry hair. The lanky man smiles a bit, shaking his head.

“Oh, yeah, he’s just a jackass when he first wakes up. And I made him late once last week- but-“ he stops himself before he breaks out into a ramble, one that would most likely scream _please don’t look into this I don’t wanna unpack my toxic relationship with a stranger, thank you_. Instead he finishes simply, “He’ll get over it. Y’know? Sorry, bet you didn’t think I’d bring a plus one like that.”

“Okay.” Ryan shrugs off his disbelief. “I don’t mind.” He adds, hands finding his pockets as he glances back at the television. He takes note of the afternoon haze the sky was projecting through the windows, and the ‘are you still watching?’ prompt on the screen. He turns back to the taller man, smiling as he speaks, “Hey, you wanna order a pizza?”


	2. whispers would deafen me now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The walls in this place are too thin. Why is he doing this to himself? 
> 
> or the the boys’ first week goes pretty well despite the fact that they refuse to talk abt anything until he who shall not be named ruins everyone’s time again

It’s a unspoken vow between the two, forgetting it ever happened at all. And Ryan tries, he really does, to keep up his end of the bargain. Because yeah, sure, maybe there’s been times where he’s bitten someone’s head off while he was still waking up. And losing your temper while running late for work doesn’t make you a monster. He really doesn’t know Zack at all. Or Matt, for that matter. That suspension of disbelief only goes so far, though. And what really bothers him doesn’t have anything to do with Zack’s attitude problem, anyway.

It’s the way Matt just took it, grovelled and apologized. Someone else quite literally just wakes up, decides they’re angry and it’s his fault, and he apologizes. Like he’s been conditioned. _Trained_. Like a _dog_.

The flags weren’t necessarily red. Moreso tinted pink, like from a forgotten sock left in the washing machine. But they were there nonetheless.

That first night was spent procrastinating all of the unpacking that had been begging to be done, in favor of Ryan’s suggestion of video games. Although he wasn’t sure if it was exactly appropriate, plying his roommate with beer and the best pizza in town, in lieu of an actual, substantial conversation.

The apartment somehow came together over the last few days they had before the schoolyear started. It wasn’t immaculate, but a whole lot more presentable than it was that first day Matt moved in. They worked together, for the most part in harmony, chatting over beers, takeout, and boxes that had obviously been neatly packed and labelled by Matt’s mother. He was a whole lot more prepared than Ryan was, coming complete with a whole set of dishes and cups, not to mention silverware. Oh, and a fucking blender? Yeah, he put Ryan to shame.

The bearded man was, however, shocked and disgusted to find that Matt had never dabbled in a certain integral piece of the college experience.

“What do you _mean_ you’ve never built Ikea furniture?!”

”Might he who is without sin cast the first stone, Ryan ‘I’m twenty-one and have bever eaten a Big Mac’ Magee.”

Reminding Matt a lot of his own father, Ryan insisted he take the reins with such projects. He kept reiterating that he’d show Matt how it’s done, but the pair mostly just bickered over the process of building a shelf until the older man found a defect in one of the pieces and nearly cried. Matt assured him that it looked fine, and the final level of the shelving wasn’t exactly necessary, that four out of five would suffice. The dejected look in those brown eyes, even after all of that reassurance, had the taller man giggling to himself.

One thing Matt’s noticed over the last few days is the blaringly obvious fact that Ryan certainly wasn’t ugly. He happened to be much better looking than his Facebook page let on, and maybe that’s why Zack was so tense that sunday morning. Of course his boyfriend vetted his roommate-to-be pretty thoroughly through social media. It made his cheeks burn, considering the tinge of jealousy in his lover’s voice and actions that day. He didn’t let his mind linger too much on the subject, though. Any of it.

He cheered his roommate up promptly with a late night Slurpee run.

Slowly becoming more than just acquaintances with his roommate felt nice, almost comfortable, having both allowed themselves to start over. They’ve already had a few late-ish rounds of Mario Party on the couch, a few beers having Matt strewn accross it leisurely as he rolled his virtual dice. He was grinning over at the dark haired man this time, one of their rematches, making a show of tapping on the final button prompt that allowed his Toadette to steal a star from Ryan’s Luigi. Their faces were pretty close, along with their shoulders, and it wasn’t like buzzed Matt’s _never_ like this with Jackson and the other boys back at home, but it felt more scandalous here. In his new apartment, with his new not-ugly roommate, over an hour away from his loving boyfriend.

“Fuck. You.” Ryan finally gritted out, and the lanky man rememberd why he was smiling.

For every late night they shared, the older man would be swearing they won’t repeat it the next morning while he brewed his coffee. Despite that, it was a fifty/fifty on whether they would or not. Regardless, they were spending a lot of time together. By choice, too. All that worry of having to barter for his living room time slot each day rolled straight off Ryan’s back. There was no need. Whenever he and Matt were in the same room, it was typically an easy going experience, filled with laughter. They played off of eachother so well.

All his forgotten worries were quickly replaced with new ones as he felt the two of them grow closer so quickly. Which, if he knew himself at all, was to be expected. He just kept thinking about how he hasn’t gotten close to someone he might even consider a friend in years. They were worries he didn’t care to iron out the details of, though. It wasn’t like he found a soulmate or anything, he’s just found someone he can live with while also not hating them at the same time. He shut his brain off when the anxiety started to buzz at the back of his head, it was just that crippling, earth-shattering ordeal of being known and all that. Being vulnerable. The cycle he’d grown comfortable in over his first few baby steps into adulthood consisted of finding new things to agonize over every few months, and longing for the seemingly superficial worries of day’s past. It wasn’t sustainable, he was well aware of that, and the silver hair he found amongst his mane of brown the other week was proof.

The pattern of his anxiety wasn’t the only unsustainable habit he fostered, either.

Lighting up at the top of the stairs to their place, he leaned over the railing to dispel his first lungful of smoke with a rather dramatic sigh. His first week was over, and he didn’t have shit to do for the next thirty-odd hours until his shift that sunday. He just let himself feel the faint buzz of the nicotine and stood in silence, watching the sky turn from yellow to to kind of pink to almost purple.

After a while there was the quiet metal-on-metal sound of the doorknob turning behind him, and Matt was leaning out of the apartment, complete with a lopsided grin. It faultered, however, blue eyes glancing down at the two cigarette butts cast aside on the banister. Then moving on to the virgin white of the third one up to bat in Ryan’s hands. It barely even registered to Ryan himself that he had already burned through two entire cigarettes. Then that serious gaze finally recreated the lost eye contact.

”Are you stressed?”

Ryan couldn’t help the snort he stifled in response to that furrowed brow, the slight cock to his head. The answer was always _yes,_ and maybe the chainsmoking _was_ a new development from spending his summer at home, but it only happened once a week at worst _._ All he could do was stand there, unlit cigarette hanging from between his fingers, trying to pick out a single thought worth lending a voice to.

“...Do you wanna talk about it?”

He could chalk the first one up to being polite or making conversation, but what kind of question was that? Didn’t he see the irony in asking that? Why would they talk about it? It took every inch of Ryan not to roll his eyes as his lighter flickered back to life.

“Nah. I’m good.”

A lot of Matt’s time has been spent proving to himself that he should keep his mouth shut, because he never truly learned what to say and when to say it. One would assume after nineteen years of putting his foot in his mouth he might have gained some tact and subtlety along the way, but one would be sorely mistaken. He’s always overstepping boundaries, making a fool of himself in front of anyone and everyone, and his roommate was no exception to that rule. _Why would you think you’re on that level, dumbass?_

He thought he’d read their dynamic all wrong, let himself get too familiar and comfortable too quickly. He was sure he’d creeped Ryan out with his improptu attempt at therapy all night and most of the next day.

Luckily, what else were saturday nights for, if not getting drunk enough to forget all the ways in which you’re completely inept, socially or otherwise?

Maybe it’s that lack of social skills that had him at a loss for words then, mulling over his thoughts, trying to find another prime example of things he hasn’t yet done. Maybe it was the three shots and counting.

Initially, Ryan turned his nose up at the mere concept of the game, a quirk of his brow and an incredulous: _What are we, highschoolers?_

Matt reminded him that, unlike the older man, he _had_ just been one a few months ago. He just grumbled something about being old and settled into the couch next to him in silent, passive approval of the suggestion. Matt beamed over at him, excitedly volunteering to go first, twisting his body and crossing his legs so all of him would face the bearded man. The first few rounds were fired, back and forth, ridiculous and maybe a little sarcastic on Ryan’s part. ‘ _Never have I ever come shooting out of Ann Watson’s big fucking vagina’_ was just too easy. And Matt choking on his vodka at the delayed, somber afterthought of ‘ _unfortunately_ ’ had him doubled over.

It was once again Matt’s turn, and they’ve been at a stand still for the last ten minutes of their Breaking Bad rewatch. They were already on the second season, and a rather passionate scene unfolding on the screen got him thinking.

”Oh!” he announced with a start. “Never have I ever kissed a girl!”

The corners of the bearded man’s mouth tug down a bit, lips pursing with a ‘hm’ noise. He prepared his shot, knocking it back, eyes screwed shut as he recovered from the strong alcohol. When he opened them again, he had his gaze on the television, obviously already thinking about his turn. It was almost insulting, the way he wasn’t even surprised. It wasn’t that Matt just knew he wasn’t interested before he even tried, quite the opposite. He had a very long phase of thinking he was straight.

He just never made it to first base.

He looked over at Ryan’s thoughtful expression, and he kind of just wanted to take another shot right then, so he pointed out the obvious.

”You know you could just say you’ve never kissed a dude, right?”

Ryan gave him quite the serious look at that and it throws the younger man off. Then a smile formed on the bearded man’s lips.

”Matthew, I don’t want to lie to you.”

He couldn’t help the ‘Oh’ that escaped his mouth in response.

He wasn’t sure if he should leave the younger, ever slightly more gullible man under the impression that he was some bisexual casanova, but the look on his face was priceless. And he wasn’t sure about the details of why it made him so giggly to fluster his roommate like that, either. Or if it was exactly ethical to engage in Gay Chicken with someone in a commited gay relationship. 

He was sure, however, that he didn’t want to lie to Matt. Of course, it’s not like he’s ever done it in an act of passion, just quick chaste pecks on dares and whatnot. He was comfortable enough with himself to see the humor in some platonic guy on guy action. He chose to leave it at that, not elaborating, and surely not taking it back.

It’s now Sunday morning, one week from that hectic first day. After waking to the dreadful sound of his alarm, Ryan’s gathering his bearings and bracing himself for the day ahead. He works at nine, it’s seven-thirty.

That gives him just enough time for a wake and bake.

It’s a simple system, really

Eat breakfast, shower, get ready, and last of all smoke on the balcony before making the five minute drive to the restaurant just in time for his high to roll in. It’s not without its flaws, but hey, it keeps him sane, and if his manager notices, he doesn’t care. He needs it today more than most, anyway, with the whisper of a slight hangover clouding his head. 

He makes quick work of his routine, has some cereal, showers off that gross feeling he gets when he wakes up from a night of hard liquor. He’s rinsing his face in the sink when a noise behind him catches his attention. Slowly, he moves to turn off the faucet, eliminating the distraction. The walls in this place are way too thin, how’s he supposed to help himself?

He hears Matt’s voice more clearly now, not saying much of anything with a few sentences broken off into short stuttering attempts at getting words out, before he stops trying altogether. It’s a bit confusing at first, but it seems as if he’s on the phone and being cut off by whomever’s on the other end. Probably a worried parent, honestly. When Ryan was first on his own, his mom would call just to hear his voice and make sure he was alive. Now they don’t talk enough.

He doesn’t think much of his roommate’s phonecall, pulling his deoderant from the drawer beside him and applying it, inspecting his appearance in the portion of the mirror he’s wiped the fog from. Then it seems Matt’s finally given a chance to speak, and it’s barely audible through the wall, but one word sticks out in particular. One word makes Ryan’s ears perk, his shoulders tense.

Of course, it’s none other than ‘baby’. Now he feels entirely different when he considers the person on the other end of the call. Matt’s frantic attempts at voicing his thoughts making his grimace deepen even further. He could just exit the bathroom, he’s done in here anyway, he could shut himself out on the balcony and smoke up all he wants, he could literally be anywhere but here right now.

Why does he do this to himself?

He inches toward the wall some more, the one bordering on Matt’s bedroom. Gently, noiselessly, he leans into the cheap drywall, practically holding his breath in anticipation for what he’s about to hear. What he knows will make him angry.

He can, just barely, make out:

”I didn’t think about how you’d feel.”

A normal apology. Maybe, somehow, seventy miles away, Matt actually fucked up and simply owes his boyfriend an apology. Ryan doubts it though. Zack must be talking again, or yelling, as the speaker of his roommate’s iPhone is blaring so loudly that it’s somehow almost audible through the wall. Unintelligible, of course, and for some odd reason Ryan has a feeling that’s not entirely the wall’s fault. This eavesdropping is now cutting into his smoke session big time, but he can’t pull himself away. It’s like witnessing a car crash.

”No, I won’t get that wasted again!”

_‘_ _That wasted’?_

Is he talking about last night?

Sure, he was a little bit giggly, but from his first shot to the reasonable time he retired to bed he was completely tame. Stupid, goofy, but tame. What’s college for, other than getting drunk on bottom shelf liquor with your bros? What the hell did that jackass expect?

“Stop. It’s not like that.”

That one sounds different. Hurt. Insecure. It’s a lower tone and volume, less weight to the words entirely. Almost as if he’s second guessing the statement himself. Ryan really wishes he could hear the other half of the conversation, but at the same time he wishes he never heard a fraction of it in the first place. A glance at his phone tells him it’s too late to smoke up, and almost time to go. He exits the bathroom, only to stop short in front of Matt’s bedroom door. There it is, a desperate, heartbreaking plea much like the ones he first heard last sunday.

“Wait, wait- you’re still coming over next weekend, right?”

The monotonous beep, beep, beeping that came from the cell phone in response sends Ryan off to work bitter, sober, and practically seething.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took a lot of reworking this chapter to flow decently, i still dont know about it but its as good as its gonna get lol  
> ive had the following chapters written for a while so it wont take me as long to continue from here  
> thank u for the love on chap 1 i appreciate it a lot  
> ps yes that was a reference to come over was i obvious enough??


	3. more green than my whole foods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys run some errands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theres drugs in this one kids

It’s been almost two weeks since Matt moved in, and around ten days of getting back into his busy schedule has Ryan swearing he’ll never take his time zoning out on the couch for granted again. Originally, his manager was gracious enough to throw him a bone, give him another saturday off, he did have seniority over the freshmen after all. But then he was informed that, yes, the lovebirds did manage to kiss and make up over facetime or whatever the fuck, a certain someone would, in fact, be gracing them with his presence this weekend. He practically demanded the shift from the first coworker he saw, and luckily, they didn’t put up much of a fight. But that means he won’t have a day off, completely in peace, for a while, and getting out of a morning class with a free schedule for the rest of the day is a golden opportunity and he should treat it as such.

And yet he’s much more comfortable spending it here, watching Matt scramble over a paper from his vantage point in the living room. His coursework was scattered about the table, one they didn’t use much for it’s namesake, choosing to dine on the couch most nights with something on Netflix playing in the background. The lanky man was hunched over his keyboard, and an arm shot out to slide his book closer to him, flipping through pages devoid of any notes or highlighting. It didn’t seem like he was very prepared for the any of the assignments laid out in front of him, whether it be from the fresh pages of the book or the sparknotes open on his screen, but he was no doubt trying to clear up his workload before he gives up his weekend to that asshole. And here Ryan is thinking he’s the one with the procrastination problem. Matt looks stressed as he jots down another line of bullshit notes. Ryan would be laughing if he didn’t know just how out of his mind his roommate is probably going trying to finish his work. He just sits there, sparing long drawn out glances in the direction of the dining table whenever the television loses his interest.

After the better part of an hour and and two complete episodes of the Netflix original, he notices a particularly frustrated groan from his roommate. He’s now leaned back in his chair, head thrown back with his hands roughly rubbing at his eyes.

“Writer’s block?” Ryan quirks an eyebrow, elbows resting on his knees. Matt nods with a hefty sigh.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

The episode ends, and the long haired man takes a look at the time. It’s well into the afternoon, now, and he mentally curses himself for his wasted time. It’s his last day before his space is once again infiltrated, and he has shit to do. He stands up, stretching his limbs out a bit.

“Well, I’m gonna run some errands.” he thinks out loud, and Matt perks up a bit at the idea of leaving the house. Ryan chuckles, eyeing him, “Uh, do you wanna come with?”

The taller of the two can’t help but recoil sheepishly at the offer, scratching the back of his neck and tabbing over to an unfinished google document, just a fraction of the late work he’s been slaving over for hours. He’s consumed enough caffeine to kill an infant, and even though he knows he won’t get any work done over the next forty-eight hours, he hates the idea of staying still in the shitty ikea dining chair for the rest of his afternoon. Despite this and his embarrassment, he nods.

The two get ready rather quickly, Matt catching up on his routine and taking a brief shower. Ryan had already done most of what he needs to in order to face the world beyond campus, just strolling into his room to swap his school-appropriate sweatpants for public-appropriate gym shorts and his tshirt for a... different tshirt. He zipped up a hoodie over the ensemble, shuffled into slides, threw on a hat, and called it good.

He fucks off on his phone until Matt emerges from the bathroom. His hair’s still damp and his glasses are kind of foggy before he takes them and rubs it away with the knitted fabric of his sweater.

The duo ride mostly in silence, Matt had asked for the AUX and the shorter man didn’t mind. His music taste wasn’t the worst, they even had a few artists in common. Ryan’s tapping a thumb on his steering wheel to the beat of a certain song, it makes the skinnier of the two happy to see him enjoying it. They pull into the parking lot of the grocery store, living on campus made everything in the college town just a pretty convenient drive away.

They enter, and the bright yellow of the lights above them hum loudly, still audible even over the old pop song playing softly over the speakers. Ryan grabs a cart, rattling off a few items he knows he needs, efficiency isn’t his top priority. Being out in crowded public spaces is his least favorite way to spend his downtime, and he finds himself once again wishing he could have utilized an early saturday morning for the trip instead.

Matt’s oblivious to this, though, touching and pointing to random items, throwing the odd box of cereal or random snack in the cart. He really eats like shit, not like the other man has much room to talk. But at least Ryan gets his protein in.

They linger at the produce for a while, bagging up their desired fruits and vegetables before rounding the cluster of aisles to the dairy. Then the deli. Ryan’s inspecting a package of steaks, considering the cost and whether or not the meat is worth it, and if he can actually trust himself to get off his ass and really _cook_ for once, when he realizes his shopping partner has wandered off. He drops the package in the cart and takes off to find him.

It’s not long before he sees the lanky man’s head sticking up above one of the aisles in the liquor section of the store, before it bobbed down behind the shelves again, obviously finding whatever he was looking for. He rolls his eyes.

When he reaches the man, he’s turning around to greet him with two large bottles of Svedka in his hand. Ryan pulls a face at the cheap alcohol, the label alone brings him back to his freshman year of college. Well, makes sense that it was Matt’s vodka of choice, then. The younger lowers his find into the cart with a wink that says ‘I’ll pay you back, just do me a solid’ and Ryan can’t refuse. It’s a weird feeling, being the one who’s doing the supplying and not the one who’s begging his of-age sort-of-friends and acquaintances to hook him up. But, pay it forward and all that. They make it to the front, seperating their individual purchases. Matt goes to the self checkout, and Ryan opts for a cashier, not wanting to wait for a checkout attendant to come around and check his ID.

Matt’s leaning against his car when he exits the building, arms adorned with his bags and playing on his phone. He peeks up from the device and grins, circling the car to open the trunk and help load it up.

”Thanks, man. Supplies were running low.”

“You sound like an alcoholic.” he says, setting his bags into the trunk rather haphazardly. Matt scoffs at the notion.

”Do not. You’re the one that smokes like, what, a pack a day?”

“Shut up.” Ryan chuckles at the exaggeration, slamming the trunk closed. Before he can grab for it, the taller man is taking the cart from him to to deposit it at the cart return.

“So,” Matt begins, carefully ducking into the passenger seat next to his roommate as the older of the two hurriedly finishes a text message, “Where else you going?”

They couldn’t be out long, for fear of the groceries spoiling, but Ryan did say errands, plural. It takes a moment for the bearded man to look up from his phone, and he smiles.

“Oh, just gotta see a friend real quick.” he shrugs, eyes darting down to his phone once again when it dings. The younger of the two can’t help but raise an eyebrow, wondering who the said friend could be. His roommate never leaves the house if it isn’t for work or school. Since when does he have friends to randomly drop in on? He decides not to ask, just settle in his seat and nod as they take off once again. He shuffles his playlist once more, skipping around until he finds a particular song he thinks Ryan may enjoy.

They take a few turns through residential neighborhoods, going deeper into the suburbs of the town than Matt has ever been before. He admires the architecture of the small houses. The sun bathed them in a golden hue, making each and every one they passed stand out. The neighborhood they slow down in has an almost cinematic quality to it, with chain link fences lining overgrown lawns and blinding spots of sunlight peaking through half-naked trees. They stop in front of a simple, one story house, nothing out of the norm save for the mildly expensive-looking vehicle in the driveway, and Ryan throws the car in park before turning to the man on the passenger side.

”I won’t be long. I’ll keep the keys in here.” he tells him. The lanky man nods, leaning his head against the window with a thumbs up, trying not to be too nosy.

The older man practically skips up the steps to the home, and the door opens as soon as he reaches the porch. Whoever he’s going to see knew that he was there already. Matt tried to focus on his phone instead of whatever was on the other side of that door.

The playlist shuffles through two whole songs, and he can’t help but wonder what’s going on. Ryan doesn’t really talk much about himself, leaving a lot up to the imagination, but Matt tried not to think about it too hard. He sighs, sinking down lower in his seat and skipping a few tunes before finding something that catches his attention. He hums along to the melody and opens twitter once more.

He’s refreshed his feed five times when the driver side door finally opens, revealing Ryan, looking almost giddy as plops into his seat and begins buckling up. Matt isn’t clued into what the purpose of the stop was until the smell hits him. It’s not that strong, it’s apparent that whoever lived at the mystery house packaged the source up pretty well in order to be somewhat discreet. But in the small enclosed space of the car, the stench is unmistakable.

“Dude.” the taller man looks over at him, grinning incredulously as he eyes him up and down. The man in the driver’s side cocks his head, raising his eyebrow before his roommate continues, “Did you just make me sit in the car while you bought weed?”

Ryan tries not to laugh like he does, but the look on Matt’s face is kind of priceless. He attempts to keep his giggles at a minimum, taking the car out of park.

“Yeah, maybe, you a narc?” he grins as he checks their surroundings before re-entering the empty street. Matt is at a loss, laughing at how casual Ryan’s being. Weed’s still very much illegal in their shitty county trapped inside an even shittier state. Sure, the younger man was familiar enough with the drug to know the smell, but he’s never interacted directly with a dealer. It’s always been from someone’s friend who has a brother who knew a guy, or something. He ordered a small pipe from amazon and had it shipped to a friend’s house when he was seventeen, and can count on his fingers the amount of times he’s used it. This is definitely a change of pace for him. Not necessarily in a bad way, though.

He definitely doesn’t want sound like some straight-edge douchebag, so he just opts to joke, “No, I just figured my first drug deal would have been special.”

”Aw, don’t worry baby, next time I’ll sprinkle some rose petals, get us some champagne.” Ryan says, glancing at Matt, then the rearview mirror with a smirk. His tone, the way his hands are working the steering wheel, it’s all painting a pretty picture despite the fact that everything’s just a joke. It’s not necessarily alien to him, the way Ryan’s always pushing the envelope with those flirtatious bits, but he’s not any more used to them now than he was the first time. He’s so good at being deadpan and putting on that stupid godawful attempt at a sultry voice that should be entirely laughable. Matt’s pretty sure he hasn’t ever met anyone as hard to read as Ryan. He can’t even nail down something as simple as his orientation. 

“You better.” He shoots back, flashing a glare in the direction of the other man. Ryan puts a hand on Matt’s thigh for a minute to finally look him in the eye and hold his gaze at a momentarily red light. Matt thinks his chest might cave in. It’s all in good fun, a simple pause for dramatic effect, he just has to remember that.

”I promise.” he declares, lowering his tone even further. The other man has no idea how to quip back, how to keep it going, so he breaks into laughter, playfully swatting his newfound friend’s hand away despite the exhilarating touch. Ryan giggles too, getting that gleeful look in his eyes as he looks straight ahead. Matt can’t help the blush that rises from the altercation. _What the fuck is wrong with him?_

”You’ve really never bought weed before?” Ryan breaks the beat of silence that follows their laughter, glancing over again and finding the back of his friend’s shaking head.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, settling back into his seat and turning to stare forward through the windshield. “I’ve smoked with friends and stuff, but I’ve always been too chickenshit to find a dealer. I’ve always liked drinking more than smoking anyways.” he says honestly. Ryan nods.

“Damn, I assumed you were all over that shit. You look like a stoner.”

”No, _you_ look like a stoner.”

“That’s not mutually exclusive, Matt, there’s different types of stoners.”

“Oh? Then what kind of stoner do I look like?”

The bearded man smirks a bit as he eyes the man in the passenger seat, as if he knows what he’s about to say will get to him. If there’s one of Ryan’s looks Matt can translate, it’s that mischievous, shit-eating grin. Button-pushing seemed to be his forte, and Matt’s been an easy target his whole life.

”You look like you wouldn’t smoke it, just vape.” he says, shrugging simply, as if it makes all the sense in the world. And yeah, it seems like it should be a little offensive.

“You can vape weed?”

“Yes!” the older man’s giggling again, and the redness returns to the younger’s face. The other must catch onto his embarrassment because he tones it down, “Sorry, uh, yeah. You can. And weird gatekeepy potheads think that makes you, like, a cuck.”

The explanation catches Matt of guard and suddenly he’s laughing harder than he has in a while, “A cuck? Seriously, dude?”

”The cuck of the marijuana world! I dunno’! I couldn’t think of anything else. I don’t think that! I think the whole superiority complex thing is dumb, getting high is getting high.” he’s laughing while he speaks, free hand becoming more and more animated as he loses composure. He likes when he makes Matt laugh, and can’t help but join in. When they both settle down, he amends, “But you do look like you vape.”

This earns a scoff from the taller man, mostly because the inclination is not that far off, he had bought a Juul once he hit eighteen, just because he could. It was one of the worst decisions he ever made, and he thinks he has the ironic snapchat video of him taking a hammer to it saved somewhere.

The pair roll into their apartment complex’ parking lot, and Ryan parks the car before looking over at Matt, “I’ll have to smoke you out sometime. I doubt you’ve had anything like this shit.”

Matt’s not exactly sure why he’s still red in the face, as it’s the most platonic of offers, but it’s becoming more and more apparent that Ryan just has that affect on him.

”Uh-“ he swallows, willing himself back to the present situation, weeding through his brain to find something of substance to say, “How much do I owe you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you know the song the title references you’re probably cool  
> i promise that w**d is actually smoked in the next one


	4. 12:34 AM (really wanna talk to you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything just feels wrong and out of place, and Matt is no exception. It’s disheartening, realizing that this time, Zack is not his easy, temporary solution to all of his many issues.
> 
> Matt’s dealing with some inner turmoil while Ryan’s just trying to sneak a smoke sesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drama is finally here :)  
> Weed is inhaled in this one kidos.  
> And there’s a good chunk of unhealthy relationship bs in this one, along with a splash of dubious consent but that’s super vague and quick at the very end.

There it is. Midnight. The old, ever mercurial friend. Bright and angry red numbers glare at him from the nightstand. He glares back until his eyes burn, until the ‘zero’ at the end flickers into a ‘one’.

There’s a warm, large hand on his waist, rythmic breathing on the back of his neck. The chills down his spine left a long time ago, now there’s just a hot, sticky feeling there instead. If it weren’t for the hard-earned peaceful slumber of his boyfriend behind him, he would have long ago kicked off his covers and left to aimlessly wander the apartment. To busy his hands and his mind with something other than just his cell phone. An anxious midnight cleaning session, maybe. He bets if he tries, he could find something that needs his attention.

Every part of him wants to sleep except his mind, the most disagreeable piece of him there is.

Usually, the nights he gets the priviledge of having Zack by his side are the ones where sleep comes easy. They’re usually the nights where his mind relents and he can just allow himself to feel loved safe. Tonight just feels different. The embrace isn’t as comforting as it is claustrophobic, and that little noise his partner’s nose makes when he exhales is less endearing and more insufferable. Everything just feels wrong and out of place, and Matt is no exception. It’s disheartening, realizing that this time, Zack is not his easy, temporary solution to all of his many issues.

As if he can read his mind, the larger man retracts his arm and stretches in his sleep, rolling over to his other side and freeing Matt to move as much as he pleases. He stills for a moment, listening to the breathing behind him regulate once more before he dares move. When he does, he does it carefully, sitting upright and slowly transferring his weight to his feet as he stands. The mattress doesn’t betray him, and neither does the floor as he pads over to the door silently, escaping the bedroom without a hitch.

The air of the living room is much cooler, more inviting as it’s relieving temperature graces his skin. The moonlight spills in and onto the floor, much brighter through the sliding glass door than it was through his bedroom window. Fresh air sounds good. It doesn’t take much time for the slender man to realize the balcony is occupied, and then fresh air sounds even better.

He paces over to the door, stopping just shy of it to look over Ryan’s relaxed frame. Smoke is pouring out of him and being carried by the breeze, up and away from where he’s leaning on the bannister. He lets his shoulders slouch and his head dip down, obviously relaxed by the cigarette in his hand. He looks almost as peaceful as Zack did in bed, disturbing him would be a crime.

He does it anyway.

Those shoulders snap to attention at the sound of the sliding glass, once again regaining that trademark rigid quality. The bearded man all but whirls around to identify the intruder. His eyes are wide- and very red, and that smell hits Matt like a brick to the face once again, just like yesterday but much more intense, and it all makes sense. He isn’t smoking a cigarette.

“Paranoid, huh?”

He can’t help the way he chuckles as the dazed man blinks up at him, that confusion slowly giving way to a blank expression. Ryan takes yet another hit, holding most of it in for a moment as he speaks, “What’s up?”

A tiny bit of smoke slips out of his mouth with the words, quickly dissipating above him before the rest of it follows. The exhale is slow and gradual, head turned to the right so that it’s angled away from his roommate as he blows.

Then it dawns on Matt that he should probably answer the question and attempt to justify his presence, so he goes to lean on the railing next to Ryan.

”I saw you out here, and, uh, didn’t get a chance to say hey after you got home from work.” he tries. Ever since Zack’s truck pulled into the parking lot, neither of them really had the forethought to acknowledge a single thing but eachother. Two entire weeks apart is a new thing for them, and they made sure to waste no time getting reacquainted. It was dusk before they knew it, and Ryan had snuck into his bedroom undetected. Matt was pretty sure that was his intention.

The older man’s looking at him once again, eyebrows raised in a way that tells Matt he’s unsatisfied with the explanation, so he expands upon his previous statement, “Zack’s asleep.”

Ryan laughs, going back to looking down at the street below them. It’s an odd reaction, but the taller man blames it on the drug. He himself is definitely giggly when he does manage to get his hands on the stuff. He joins the other man in watching cars roll by on the adjacent road.

The silence isn’t awful, but it sure as hell isn’t what Matt needs right now, so he takes it upon himself to fill it.

”I can’t sleep. I can never fucking fall asleep. I don’t know what it is. And Zack- his nose makes this little whistling noise when he breathes and it’s usually cute but oh my _god_ I can’t stand it right now, I had to get out of there, man.” he’s rambling, he knows, but much like stumbling down a steep hill he’d sooner trip all over himself than stop. The laughter continues out of the older man, shaking Matt’s train of thought from it’s course and derailing his monologue completely. Despite the interruption, he can’t help his smile, “What?”

Once again, a drag from the joint takes priority over a response, and Matt wonders whether he’s trying to be annoying or if it’s even a conscious thing at this point. He waits patiently regardless, not having it in him to hold anything against the intoxicated man before him.

”I dunno’, maybe kicking the coffee and Redbull habit would help you sleep.” his sarcastic answer is accompanied by the expulsion of a lungful of smoke. Matt rolls his eyes in a knee-jerk reaction to the suggestion, hands falling down at his sides.

“Oh, come on, man.” he says, “You sound like my mom. And my therapist.” that second part is a shitty attempt at a joke, but it doesn’t seem to do much other than catch Ryan off guard. Matt cringes and reminds himself that he isn’t back home, where all of his issues are out and in the open, asking to be paraded around for laughs.

“Okay.” the older man says, recovering quickly and eyeing him with the hint of the smirk, “Maybe taking a hit or two of this shit would help you sleep. Better?”

His arm is outstretched, the neatly rolled joint hanging from his fingers, a tempting offer. One Matt must refuse, though, because he honestly shouldn’t even be out here in the first place.

”No, thanks. Raincheck.”

The joint finds it’s way back to the other man’s lips as he works his response out around it, “Looks like I’m fresh out of advice, Matthew.”

The pair stand in silence for a little while, because it’s honestly better than another bumbling attempt at dragging conversation out of Ryan, side by side as they watch the traffic lights at a nearby intersection slowly turn from red to green then yellow and back again. A drunken neighbor returns home, bidding adéu to their Uber driver and wobbling as they make their way to their apartment. The fresh air is nice, even when paired with the skunk-smell of the burning weed.

Maybe it’s Ryan’s half-lidded eyes or his languid movements that make the contents of the rolled paper in his hand start to seem like a more viable solution to his problem. Maybe it’s the way the older man’s found his rythm once again, breathing the smoke like oxygen. Or maybe it’s just the thought of going back inside, sober, to stare at the clock until dawn. Regardless, Matt suddenly wants to go back on his refusal.

“Actually-“ he regrettably cuts into the silence, catching the focus of red brown eyes once more and adjusting his next words to a lower volume, “Can I?”

Ryan looks over the joint again, it’s pretty short in his fingers, surely near the end of its run. He smiles anyway, holding it out once more, turning it in his fingers so that the unlit end was toward Matt. Must be stoner ediquette.

“Sure, you can finish it up. I’m pretty toasted, anyway.”

Matt’s grinning now, pushing off from his place propped up by the bannister, going to take the joint from the other man. The grin falls off his face entirely as they’re bathed with a brand new lightsource.

The men are deer in headlights, frozen in shock and fear at the development. That large form is unmistakable, even when reduced to a simple silhouette behind the glass of the sliding door. As soon as his mind catches up with the world around him, Matt’s shoving his hands in his pockets. Ryan must catch the hint as he ditches the drugs in the ashtray. The smell still clings to the air, though.

The door opens slowly, revealing the dirty blonde on the other side of it. He looks confused, and after a moment of processing the scene before him as he takes it in, he frowns.

”Matt, baby... can you just come inside?”

He’s putting one foot in front of the other before he can think twice. He steps into the apartment, wrapping a spindly arm around one of Zack’s and pulling it close. He opens his mouth to speak, to diffuse the bomb that seems to be ticking down beside him, but he’s quickly cut off by none other than Ryan.

”Look, dude, I know it looks weird, but he was about to go back to bed, I just wouldn’t stop heckling him to try it. That’s all. My bad.”

Every single word drips with annoyance, like they almost pain him to say, and he barely looks up at Zack for more than half a second. He just punctuates his explanation by pressing his lips together and keeping his eyes trained on the ground between them instead.

Matt feels the man beside him pull away, stepping toward Ryan, and his heart picks up once again. He’s willing himself to move, to regain his grasp on his boyfriend, to somehow grapple control of the situation. Or some delusional sense of control that at least gives him the confidence to redirect it.

”Oh, I know you’re the problem.”

“Zack!” It slips out without warning, less of a scolding exclamation and more of a desperate plea.

The look Zack throws over his shoulder is comprised of daggers, that suddenly go dull upon impact. The expression is just that. Not soft, or warm, just dull. Even so, the lack of anger is an unanticipated development, and an even more shocking twist is seeing him carry on that demeanor as he turns around to face Ryan once again.

”Okay, whatever, just- don’t try that shit again. If he gets into trouble because _you_ decided to do illegal drugs on what is technically school property-“ he lets out a deep, frustrated sigh and allows his hand to fall by his side, “Just don’t let it fucking happen, Ryan.”

The name is pronounced like an insult, the threatening statement somehow even more disturbing to at least Matt’s ears when contrasted with the even tone. Ryan’s just looking up at him, bored as ever.

“Are you done?”

Matt’s soul leaves his body in that moment. He’s sure his face is a stark white as he marvels at the nerve of his roommate, staring completely unafraid of the broad man before him. His next words bubble up in the back of his throat with urgency, and he’s launching himself forward once again with an arm outstretched and reaching for one of Zack’s shoulders.

“Please,” there it is again, his own voice filling the air without his permission, and he’s sounding quite pathetic as his hand comes into contact with a taut forearm, bony fist balling up in the soft cotton of the tshirt, “Can we just go to bed? You have to leave early tomorrow- remember?”

He thanks whatever god is listening as the large man relents, turning to face Matt with that tense expression, eyebrows drawn down and his jaw tight once more. The pair are on their way to the bedroom before Matt registers the movement in his legs, and he tosses an apologetic glance in Ryan’s direction. Luckily the look goes unnoticed by the man leading him into the room.

Matt doesn’t turn to look at him right away, pulling the door closed behind them and resting his hands on the knob once it’s shut. The breath of relief he lets out at the newfound privacy is one he doesn’t remember taking in. He feels warmth at his back, ears perking as he becomes all too aware of the presence directly behind him. A drawn out exhalation of warm air rolls over the back of Matt’s neck, and big hands find his waist once more. Just like that, he’s right where he began the night, restless and discontented.

There’s a beat of silence, the larger man’s hands begin to travel Matt’s torso, one up and one down. The left finds Matt’s chest, thumb reaching up to the exposed portion of his collar and stroking at the defined bone there. The right stops just at the elastic of his sweatpants, sitting so casually it’s almost innocent. They pull him closer, inviting him to lean back on the firm solidity of the man behind him.

“All I want is you, right here, in my arms.” Zack declares, just above a whisper, barely audible over the tension in the otherwise silent room, “When I saw you out there, with _him_ ,” that little three letter word’s never sounded so venomous, “God, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you had a little fucking crush on him.”

Matt chokes- it has nothing to do with the calloused fingers finding his throat and spreading over it- the breath just doesn’t come. The hand’s not squeezing, just a firm presence on his jugular. The words are stronger than the touch, with their accusatory tone, the way the lips against his neck curled around them, they made every single part of him freeze in place for a moment.

When he can function again, he’s twisting in the grasp, throwing his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. Eyes wide, drinking up the expression waiting behind him. There’s a momentary look shared between hazel eyes and his own, and Matt couldn’t read the face in front of him if he tried.

His lips are all but consumed in a hungry kiss. He kisses back, not necessarily out of want but out of self preservation, going through the motions of the passion he can’t seem to muster right now. They pull away with an obnoxious wet noise, and Matt suppresses a cringe at how they must sound to anyone within earshot. To Ryan. Who’s hopefully aready retired to his own bedroom. It’s not necessarily that Matt doesn’t want to be kissing his boyfriend right now, it’s just that he wishes he could find the words to address what just happened out there. But at the same time, he knows this is the safest of the two options, because _why did he go out there in the first place_? Another collision of mouths is cut short for a bout of hot breath on his face, their foreheads falling together in away that would typically make his stomach to backflips. Right now he feels it for what it is: skin on sweaty skin.

“You know what it did to me to see you look at him like that?” those eyes have gone round and serious with hurt, and it’s honestly breathtaking, the way the all-consuming fire within them can be extinguished on command and leave all that delicate childlike innocence in it’s wake. Like he’s wordlessly telling Matt he’ll break with one wrong move.

_How much did he see, exactly?_

“I... I’m sorry,” the younger works out, eyes falling from the set looking down at him, spindly fingers spreading out over his partner’s firm chest. His heart in his throat, he attempts further reassurance, “You know it means nothing, he-he’s literally just my roommate. I’m all yours.”

Those last three words are a mantra, spoken in hushed whispers behind closed doors. Oftentimes they’re the only ones Matt can rely on to fix these problems. They work like a charm.

One hand is in his hair, the other on the back of his neck, then it slides over to his shoulder and down his arms to lace their fingers together effortlessly. A few soft, sweet, posessive nothings are spoken into the ether, so quiet that Matt can’t be bothered to truly listen in. He’s really laying it on thick, now, touching and speaking so gently. It’s starting to work when a kiss is laid on the dead center of Matt’s forehead, then the bridge of his nose, cheek, jaw, and parted lips speak softly against his neck, “All mine, huh?”

Hands roam to less innocent places.

Matt’s stomach certainly flips- not the enthusiastic gymnastics routine usually inspired by these tender and intimate moments, but more like a pathetic attempt at a somersault that results in a bitten tongue and a mouthful of blood. The kind of flip that makes him sick. The new grip Zack has on him feels even less correct than before, greedy hands gripping at his hips and drawing them in. He just nods, eyes fluttering closed as he accepts it all; The hands and the words and that sweet, lost puppy look in his eyes. And what he knows will come after. He swallows it down like bitter cough syrup, knowing it’ll be better that way in the long run.

He doesn’t know why he’s got this dark, sad, unsettled feeling so often these days. He’s starting to think that this routine might have that affect on him.

“Uh-huh,” He shakes the notion off like it’s a nervous tick, as if a quick jerk of his head is enough to put him back on track. He has to follow it up, say something, _do_ something. Make everything all better. After all, actions do speak louder than words.

“Prove it, then.”

Bony knees hit the unforgiving carpeted floor with no hesitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love heavy handed parallels here  
> I appreciate all the kudos and comments you are all too kind :) I love hearing what you guys think <3


End file.
